


Kings and Queens

by RC_McLachlan



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Bulma Briefs is the queen we deserve, Gen, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 10:50:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4957492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RC_McLachlan/pseuds/RC_McLachlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the tumblr prompt: <a href="http://rcmclachlan.tumblr.com/post/130716730842/if-you-are-still-taking-prompts-vegeta-crowing-he">"Vegeta crowing he is the King of all Saiyans to Bulma and Trunks' consternation."</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Kings and Queens

“You aren’t _trying_  hard enough, brat. If you don’t learn how to perform the Galic Gun by the end of the week, I’m disinheriting you.” 

If being disinherited means Trunks might get to sleep in before six, he’ll do it. For the last two months, every single morning before dawn, his dad's kicked him–literally–out of bed and dragged him to the gravity simulator to endure the worst training of his life. His teacher’s called Child Protective Services like nineteen times because of the bruising and burns. It sucks, because it used to be his favorite thing to do with his dad. He misses the days when training was fun, when those bruises would be earned, when he would bite and claw his way to new strengths just to see the glint of pride in his dad’s eyes and feel the rush of pleasure at knowing _he_  was the one who put it there. 

Now the glint in his father’s eye is dimmed by disappointment and his bruises just plain hurt. 

“Dad–”  


His father fixes him with an unimpressed stare. “What do you want, little street urchin who has no connection whatsoever to the crown?”

“Aw, _c’mon_.” Trunks heaves a groan and collapses on top of the table. “The Galic Gun is _your_  thing. Shouldn’t I come up with something myself?”  


“The Galic Gun is the official technique of House Vegeta, you fool,” his dad snarls. “My father learned it from his mother, who learned it from her father, and so on. It’s a mark of our line, a symbol of–”  


It’s like talking to a wall. “I don’t want to learn it. I’m already a super saiyan–what more do you want?”

“For you to respect your heritage and be deserving of the name you carry!”  


“I don’t _have_  your name!” Trunks shouts. His dad always used to say that to become a super saiyan would take a surge of raw anger. Since Trunks is already a super saiyan–a happy accident, really–maybe the rage building in his gut will be enough to make him learn the Galic Gun.  


“A name is more than just a name.” His dad says it like that makes any sense. “You are a damn prince–”  


“Oh, I’m a prince now? I thought I was a street urchin!”  


“–A _prince_ who _,_ as the son of the king, will learn the fucking Galic Gun if he wants to live to see his tenth birthday!”   


Trunks has a _reeeeally_  good comeback for that and even opens his mouth to throw it down at his dad’s feet, but his mom swans into the kitchen with a broken droid tucked under her arm and her cheeks smeared with grease. She casts a flat look at the two of them, and immediately the comeback dies a swift death on his tongue.

“If I have to hear one more minute of this bullshit, I’m going to blow something up. Trunks, baby, don’t learn the Galic Gun if you don’t want to. You can still be a royal saiyan moron without it, I promise,” she says, making a beeline for the fridge. She grabs a bottle of juice and kicks the door shut.   


Just before she goes, she pauses and turns to look at his dad.

“Oh, and your _majesty_? Your fly’s down.” With a curtsy and a wink, she breezes out the way she came.  


There’s a long, uncomfortable pause, and then–

“Why it didn’t occur to us to let her have a crack at Frieza, I’ll never know,” his dad sighs, zipping up. “She could’ve avenged our whole damn race in two minutes.”  



End file.
